"Hush, you are too weak to talk. Stay quiet, I am with you. I will nurse you back to strength. Oh, my darling, you didn't die."
"Your darling, Valentine? Did you call me your darling?"
"I said it. I say it. You are all the world to me; without you the world is empty. Oh, how I love you—how I have loved you for years."
"Then it was good I didn't die," said Wyndham, he raised his eyes, looked up and smiled. His smile was one of ecstasy.
"Of course it was good that you didn't die, and now you are going to get well. Lie still. Do you like my hand under your head?"
"Like it?"
"Yes; you need not tell me. Let me talk to you; don't answer me. Gerald, my father told me. He told me what he had done; he told me what you had done. He wants me to forgive him, but I'm not going to forgive him. I'll never forgive him, Gerald. I have ceased to love him, and I'll never forgive him; all my love is for you."
"Not all, wife—not quite all. Give him back a little, and—forgive."
"How weak you are, Gerald, and your voice sounds miles away."